You relieve them of the pressure, the soil dug under my fingernail,
the river ended so abruptly past its daily flight,
and I called him back (at least my memory has it written that way)
and as rain weighing down the pavement's shoulder,
the fog comes between us, maybe I will see through it tomorrow,
maybe the oncoming glare of headlights will refuse to flash in my eyes for once,
and, I respect his protests, but I will walk by him and I will refuse to look.
Staircase in front of me, static in hostility,
(every day I will walk by him and his eyes will gaze into his work)
and the litter scattered around, obscured by view,
and attesting that it's so far past us, so resolute,
and my sight of the courtyard, obscured by brick: yes, I have seen them every day!
The debris scattered around,
it has nothing battling it on the ledges, I can see it every day!
Waving over the edges,
and, every day, the pounding rain,
chipping away at the paint,
I will see it and I will smile and I will walk away,
and I will fall asleep at my work and I will wake up to their shouting,
but they will fade into the background, and the resonance of their voices,
It fills my thought now,
but tomorrow I will remember it and then I will forget it
and every step that I thrust into the ground will be heard by thousands,
and over their shouts I will hear your gentle murmurs,
pounding away at the staircase, erasing the littered ground,
so that only its brilliance would shatter my vision,
and the rays of light peeking through the windowpanes,
I will hear them calling me back,
and, at least today, I will answer. |
